Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.
Warnings: Grief, angst, eventual smut.
Jan. 29
I sat at the edge of the shore today and thought of you when the mist blew up and kissed my skin. It reminded me of all those times you gave me chills, causing my skin to prickle and an uncontrollable shiver to run through. The wind caused havoc to my hair while staring out into the vastness of the ocean, remembering how lucky I was to have you in my life, even if our time together was brief.
You would like it here–the mercurial sea, the grassy hillsides, the endless seaside caverns to get lost in.
I've dreamt about you plenty, even when ignoring those thoughts in the daylight. I know you'd tell me to move on, to find happiness, to live my life to the fullest, and oh I am trying, but your imprint on me runs deep and even if I get through my day without a thought of you, the night remembers.
Wherever you are, Valhalla or somewhere else, I hope you found peace. I know that you did what you felt you had to do (gods, you were stubborn), but I miss you madly. I'd give anything
You set the pen down and stared out the kitchen window, a tear hitting the page and causing black ink to smear. This was supposed to be therapeutic, writing thoughts and feelings down, but somehow it always turned into letters to him. Were you pathetic? Maybe. After all, he hadn't been your partner, he'd barely been a lover, but you'd given him everything and he'd hold onto that forever.
His intrusion into your life hadn't been expected, not when he came to earth the first time unannounced with a vengeance, or the second time when he slowly became an ally to an apprehensive team. He reluctantly joined the team in a few battles at Thor's insistence, and if that was all it had been, you would have slipped by him without a second glance. But your years of combat experience weren't for nothing and when your katana blew past his cheek to slice a common foe in two, he turned his eyes for a split second to the goddess wielding the sword.
You hadn't given his glance a second thought, assuming he'd only been stunned by a female "Midgardian" being able to handle her own in battle. Twisting to the right, you continued on like the warrior you were, slaughtering anyone who stood in your way.
In the back of the Quinjet after the bloody battle, you stood at a mirror applying a butterfly bandage to the gash on your cheek with a grimace. Your eyes averted from the wound to a pair of green eyes reflected in the mirror behind you. His stare was unbreaking and you abruptly turned to the front of the jet. You didn't like being alone with this calculated, twisted god.
The Quinjet landed late that night (or was it considered now early morning?) and you yawned while shouldering the sword, craving a hot shower and the comfort of your bed. But arguing with the Captain was pointless–he was by the book: after any mission there was to be a debriefing, followed by a physical assessment.
The debriefing was easy, the normal run through of the last two days, followed by a series of questions from a desk agent.
"Alright doc," you sighed after the interview. "Let's get this over with."
You slipped off the leather ensemble for the doc to get a better assessment and sat on the edge of the cold bed. Dr. Pham pulled the curtain around the bed and proceeded with the medical evaluation–blood pressure, concussion protocol, checking for any fractures or needed stitches.
"Looks like you got hit pretty good here," she said, referencing the wound on your cheek.
"You should see the other guy."
She smirked, grabbing some antibiotic cream. "I don't doubt it."
A few beds over you heard an annoyed Loki berating the other medical staff on duty. "I don't care what training you have, you aren't poking and prodding me like cattle."
You smiled at Dr. Pham. "Sounds like you need to save your staff."
She rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "Everything looks good. Call me if you need anything."
Dr. Pham's steps echoed down the hall as you pulled your suit back on, the argument continuing while you drew back the curtain and proceeded toward the door. Loki emerged with a huff, striding in your direction. "I am a god, Ms. Pham. This protocol may be well and good for you mortals but I'll have none of it."
You shrugged your shoulders at the medical staff and followed him out the door.
"Unbelievable," he mumbled under his breath. "Don't they know who I am?"
"Who are you?" He turned as if he'd just noticed another person in his vicinity. Looking down, he gave a quizzical look, his mouth open in confusion. "From what I could hear, those people were doing their job and trying to help you, and you treated them like they were trash. So, who do you think you are?"
He looked to the door behind you and shook his head with a sigh. "Mortals," he mumbled under his breath and turned, proceeding out of the building.
Feb. 1
Remember that day I came back from the mission in Istanbul? It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out intel grab with Sam while Clint sat in his perch to play lookout. We hadn't expected more than the normal security around the perimeter, but the information we were fed was faulty and we barely escaped with our lives.
Clint called for backup and Tony blasted over, always the hero. They easily found Sam, unconscious in the hallway, but I was more difficult to find, lying in a pool of my own blood in a holding cell.
I don't remember much from the next few days, but I do remember you. We weren't friends by any means, but we had become friendly since that day in the hall outside the med bay. You wouldn't admit that you saw me as anything more than an annoying mortal, and I would have denied it wholeheartedly if someone had mentioned our bond, but silently something was there.
In the operating room, they'd given me a blood transfusion and set a fractured wrist. Three ribs were broken and a bruised lung. Highly sedated, I heard you there, pissing off the medical staff with your continuous questions and assumption of their inadequacy.
When I finally awoke from the sedated haze, the room was dark, the only sound a pulsing beep from the heart monitor. You weren't there–not in the room, not in the tower, not even in the country. I didn't learn until much much later that you and Thor had gone to Istanbul and destroyed everyone and everything in that compound.
You should have told me back then how you felt, what you thought, what you wanted (did you even know back then?). I know you were only trying to protect me, but we could have had so much more time together if you had.
Summary: Both you and Loki wrestle with how you feel.
Warnings: angst, slow burn.
A/N: As always, any feedback, comments, reblogs are so much appreciated! | Dividers by @firefly-graphics
If the invasion in New York felt like the blink of an eye, the invasion in London felt like an eternity. The day after Loki left, you and Sara had left the compound, cautiously making your way back to your own apartment. The destruction wasn't as bad as you had expected, nothing compared to the devastation New York had experienced before, but the added security you felt that night because of him would never be forgotten. Glued to the television and your cell phone for any updates on London felt ridiculously obsessive. After two days, the TV was turned off and cell phone put away, promising yourself to only check after Sara was put to bed for the night.
When the Avengers returned home from battle a week later, every news outlet had made it known. There were interviews, press conferences, and panel discussions, all very formal. When you didn't see him for another two weeks after their return, you wrestled with going to the tower to see him. Playing it out in your head, you'd tell the front desk that you were there to see Loki, and then what? Tell him "I'm ready for my kiss now"? The thought alone was cringe-worthy, like a desperate booty call.
It was fine, you told yourself, the two of you had a moment and it passed. What did you think was going to happen with an Asgardian god? That he'd become your boyfriend? You were just a Midgardian who had shown him a little kindness. Honestly, "Midgardian" probably meant simpleton or servant to him. More than likely he'd either forgotten or moved on, which was what you needed to do as well.
It had been almost a month since the attack on London when you saw him again, your heart instantly doing that annoying somersault thing it liked to do around him. Sara had been begging to go to the park for weeks and you finally gave in. He sat down next to you on the park bench as you watched her in the sandpit. You would not be the first to say something, you promised yourself. But it was Sara who grabbed your attention. "Loki!"
She ran up to him, arms out, allowing him to pick her up and set her on his leg. "Hello darling. Have you been keeping your mommy busy while I was away?"
Sara giggled, nodding her head and reaching for his hands. "And what do you suppose is in there?"
"Magic! More magic!"
Loki laughed at her request. "Well, I can't say no to that," and opened his hand to show her a new fireworks display. Sara set her hand out next to his, pretending to emit her own magic. "Alright my darling girl, go play in the sandbox while I talk to your mother."
She hugged him and ran back, not a care in the world. "She really is a sweet girl."
"She likes you."
"I like her." His words were intended for you more than Sara and when he gently placed a hand on your leg, you froze. It would be so easy to give in, to let him sweep you off your feet, but when you looked at him, you knew it would only be temporary.
You placed your hand on top of his and he watched as you guided it off your leg, his face faltering.
"Loki, I like you. I really do. But… I need to protect myself, and… I need us to be just friends."
Silently, he processed your words, tongue pressed into the side of his cheek. "Friends," he said slowly, testing it out on his tongue. "If that's what you wish."
No, it wasn't what you wished. It wasn't remotely close to what you wished for. But the thought of falling in love with him, only to lose him to a war, to a conquest, to another world, was excruciating. You had a daughter to think of. You had yourself to think of.
"Well then, as my friend," he started, cutting into your thoughts. "I would like to invite you to a gathering Stark is having next Saturday."
"Loki…" you warned.
He lifted his hands in defense. "No no, you are my friend. And honestly, there is no one else on this planet that I would enjoy spending my time with more than you."
There was a twinkle in his eye and you weighed your options, unlimitedly deciding that friendships required actual interaction. "Alright, as friends."
Loki went back to the tower, sighing as he pulled out a book on the early conquests of Asgard, a way to distract himself from his swirling mind, and reclined on the chair in his room. This place had become a prison, and just when he thought he found a bright light of redemption, he had squandered it. When he had arrived back on Midgard, he had expected a cold welcome and told Thor just as much. He prepared himself for the glares, the spews of hatred, even the physical attacks which he found to be quite humorous. But he hadn't prepared himself for you.
The kindness you showed, actually wanting to spend time with him, not once bringing up his past, he was absolutely hooked. But, in London, the more he thought of you, the more he believed he would be a poison to you, just as he was to everyone else. One way or another, he would destroy you. He may be a god, you may be a mortal, but he wasn't good enough for you.
When the team arrived back from their mission in London, he didn't go back to you, as much as he desired it. Through FRIDAY he was informed of where you lived and if you and Sara were safe, but he held himself back from seeing you. It was only when he had read those fateful words that you had quoted to him from War and Peace that he decided he needed to see you again.
He knew that inviting you to Stark's party was playing with fire, and possibly playing with your heart. He was, after all, known as the god of mischief. But you had been there, more than once, at the right place, the right time. Perhaps you were meant to be his.
The Avengers Tower stood magnificently in front of you. Taking a breath, you rode up the glass elevator to the penthouse where you had been put on the guest list. Loki had requested to pick you up himself from your place, but you refused, insisting that it was not a date and therefore would arrive and leave alone. When a car was sent to pick you up, you grimaced in annoyance. He was going to make it very hard to stay just friends.
The penthouse was beautifully decorated, lavish lounge furniture, an open bar, and large dance floor. Coat and purse checked, you made your way to the bar, hoping that a glass of wine would quiet the nerves while not making a total embarrassment of yourself later.
"I usually recognize everyone at my parties, but I can't place you." You turned to be face to face with the goateed playboy billionaire, your eyes as wide as saucers. "From your off-the-rack dress, I'm assuming you're a new reporter trying to catch a big break. Am I close?"
"I…" your mouth hung open, not exactly sure what to say.
"Stark, I see you've met my guest," his voice had a deep warning tone. He placed a hand on your shoulder, instantly making you feel safe.
Tony looked from Loki to you, trying to make the connection. "So not a news reporter?"
"No, actually I'm–" but your words were cut off as a burly man called out to the billionaire, his attention pulled away. Loki laughed at your reaction. "Ignore him. That's what I usually do." He came around to face you, doing his best not to look you up and down in the glimmering form-fitting dress. "Am I allowed to tell you how stunning you look tonight?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding your head. The truth was, if you had been attracted to him after the invasion, you were absolutely blown away by how he cleaned up with a crisp suit. You drew your eyes from his frame to your drink, trying to focus. "Funny, I was in the middle of getting ready and someone sent a car to pick me up. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
He grabbed an amber drink from the bartender. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about."
"Well that's good since I sent them away." Loki abruptly looked at you with confusion, to be met with a sly smirk. "Only kidding."
He gave an awkward laugh. Was he actually nervous around you? He shook his head. Get it together, she's only a mortal.
He took the glass from your hand and set it down on the bar, then took your hand and pulled you away, winding his way through the crowds with you in tow.
"Where are you taking me, Laufeyson?" you giggled, following him up a flight of stairs and through a glass door to a balcony. The cool wind made you shiver in the small party dress and his jacket was draped over your shoulders. You looked across the massive city, above the buildings and twinkling lights that stood below and the ocean expanding beyond. "Wow, what a view. It's beautiful up here."
"I wish I could take you up there," he said, pointing up to the starry sky. "Now that is a sight worth seeing."
"What's it like up there?" you asked.
"Brilliant. Beautiful."
"Do you wish you were still up there?"
"Not right now," he said and you could feel his eyes on you. Even with his jacket on you shivered, but not from the cold. You didn't dare turn your head, afraid of what would happen if you did. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, taking in the scenery.
"I hope I'm not overstepping," he said after a while, pausing to find the right words, "I'm sorry I didn't come see you when we came back from London. I should have."
You shook your head in feigned ignorance. "It's fine, I just assumed you were busy saving the world."
He took your hands in his, not allowing you to brush it off. "No, y/n. The truth is…you scare me."
"I scare you?" you repeated the words back to him, eyebrow raised.
He smiled, the humor of a god being scared by a Midgardian not lost on him, and tucked a wisp of hair behind your ear. "Absurd, I know. But, you know I am the god of mischief and chaos. And, you are…the opposite of that. You are good and kind and…"
"And…you're afraid I will change who you are."
"No, I'm afraid I will destroy you. Or Sara. I destroy everything I touch." He looked down, thinking of all the hurt that had been caused because of him. "I would never be able to live with myself if you…"
His words trailed off, barely above a whisper. Heart pounding, your fingers interlaced with his and his eyes were drawn from the clasp of your hands to your eyes. You took a small step forward, his words sparking a boldness in you.
"Loki, no one is fully good or fully evil, not even you."
"Yes, but I–"
You cut him off, taking another small step, inching into him. "You did everything you could to save me and Sara during that invasion. Maybe you made some wrong choices in the past, but that's not who you are." His brow crinkled as you placed a hand on his cheek. "Do you want to hurt me?"
"Never," he whispered, and without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm and exactly how you had imagined. His fingers hesitatingly threaded through your hair at the back of your neck, closing the centimeters between you, a moan slipping from your mouth. You could have stayed there forever in his arms. When you pulled away, he searched your eyes. "I thought you said you just wanted to be friends."
Smiling, you replied, "You make it very hard to be just friends, Loki."
Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.
Warnings: Grief, angst, smut.
March 29
When I first met you, I thought your heart was the coldest thing in the world. But nothing could top the biting freezing water when I submerged in that lake. The impact on my bones hitting the cement-like water rang through my body. Every inch of my body felt like fire ants biting at me and I twisted and turned to find a way back up to the surface. But that man was everywhere and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let up. His large hands encircled my neck, closing my windpipe. My mind wandered, was this a dream? This couldn't possibly be how I was meant to die. It had to be a dream. My movements weren't fast enough. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel.
And then, he just let go. The water turned dark. Red. My focus blurred, unreliable, but there you were, an arm wrapped around and pulling me to the surface. My body must have acclimated to the cold, because it didn't feel any colder at the water's edge, even though we could see our breath. I was choking, gagging on hands and knees, trying painfully to fill my lungs. You snapped your neck to the side and were instantly dry.
"Come here," you motioned with a sense of urgency. "I need to get you back."
There was this surreal calm as you held me in your arms and transported us back to the hotel room. I remember how dark and quiet it was, the only sounds your steady breath, my impending chattering teeth. It was the safest I'd ever felt.
"Take off your dress," he whispered back in the room. Eyebrows drawn in, your voice was lost, body starting to violently shiver for warmth. He swiftly unbuttoned his cufflinks, removed his shoes while you stood there, a dripping stone of a mess. "I shouldn't know human anatomy better than you, darling. You're in danger of hypothermia. You need my body heat."
Brain feeling scrambled, you nodded slowly but still were frozen in a trance. It hurt to move a muscle. He pulled his shirt off quickly and noticed your lack of movement. His eyes were kind, but filled with worry. The zipper of your dress gave a high pitch whine as he released it behind you and the heaviness of the soaked fabric made the dress drop like a rock to the floor.
He whispered, "I'm sorry," so gently, you almost didn't hear him. And then your breasts were released from the cage of your bra. His eyes met yours as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.
"I've got you girl," he whispered and laid you in the bed, blankets pulled above your heads. His arms wrapped around you, legs tangled together. When had he removed his pants? Chest pressed to chest, his heart beat hard against yours. The irony of a frost giant attempting to warm you would have made you laugh if you could. His palm ran circles on your back, your body convulsing against him.
He was very aware of the intimacy of the moment. The curvature of your breasts pressed up to him, the softness of your skin as he ran his hand gently along the peaks and valleys of your body. If this weren't a life or death situation, he would have allowed those lingering thoughts of taking advantage of the situation. He was wildly attracted to you, as much as he tried to deny it to himself. But, you were also pure, and good, and surprisingly more innocent than he had ever imagined.
"What were you thinking?" Your eyes shot to his, pulling you from your own thoughts. You attempted to open your mouth, but your words were slurred and staggered, an awful attempt at defending yourself. His palm left your back to brush the damp hair from your forehead and cheek. "Fighting is in your blood as much as it is in mine, I know this. But I don't understand how you mortals can sacrifice yourselves so easily."
His thumb ran along your cheekbone. "I would have never forgiven myself if–" he trailed off and you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him tighter to you.
April 6
I miss your touch. I miss your kisses. I miss sparring with you and how much of a pompous ass you were when you'd beat me. I miss the look you'd give me when I'd beat you. I miss the little tricks you'd play on me with your seidr. I miss feeling you in my arms, around my legs, within my everything.
Your eyes opened to the slow methodical circles of his hand on your back. It was still dark, the only light coming from the city glow, which reflected off Loki's face. The shivering had stopped and your skin had warmed. He no longer felt like a burning fire to your skin, and instead you became very aware of every inch of him still wrapped around you. The thump of your pulse picked up speed and, noticing the small change in the rhythm of your breath, his eyes cracked open.
"You're awake," he whispered, his palm pausing mid-movement to rest between your shoulder blades.
"So are you," you replied. He could feel your heart beating fast pressed up against him. It wasn't every day that you awoke in a large plush bed with a semi nude god wrapped around your naked frame.
"Yes, well, I couldn't quite sleep knowing the condition you were in." His palm retracted from your back and a little part of you internally frowned. "You had me quite worried for a moment."
You scoffed at him in a mocking tone. "You should know I'm tougher than that, Loki. A little ice water isn't going to take me down."
He hummed in response and you could feel him retreating. No, don't go. Your palm slowly slid into his much larger hand. "I… I'm sorry. You–I mean, you…," a long sigh escaped. "Thank you, Loki."
Propped up on a pillow on his side, he considered you lying next to him. Had his eyes dropped to your lips, or were you imagining it? He grabbed the sheets draped on your bicep and pulled them over your shoulder. "I should let you rest," he said with a sigh.
He pulled himself up toward the edge of the bed, sheets and blankets tumbling off his bare chest down to his lap. His back to you, he shut his eyes, jaw flexing. He would not take advantage of you.
Holding the sheet tightly to your chest, you grabbed his hand at the edge of the mattress. He turned toward the hand, then your face as you pulled yourself to him, wordlessly pressing your lips to his. He may have no longer felt like fire, but his lips were a burning heat that you wanted to consume. He froze, torn between wanting to press you into the mattress, and needing to hold himself back. When you pulled inches away, searching his eyes for an answer to an unasked question, you were met with conflict.
Taking a breath, he reached to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, your name a sigh on his lips.
"Please don't make me do this," he whispered into your mouth.
It wasn’t the words you were expecting and you rested your forehead to his, answering him quietly, “What am I making you do Loki?”
Lips hovering, like a game of how close one could get without touching, his breath felt warm on your lips, his scent intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re doing, girl. I won’t stay on Midgard forever. I'm not– it wouldn't be what you want."
You smiled. He was trying to protect you, again. "And what do I want?"
"Someone who matters."
"Yeah," you agreed. You leaned away from him and dropped your arm that held the sheet to your chest, pooling at your waist. He was very good at keeping his composure, but you could still see his mouth gently opening, his eyes trailing down to take in your soft curves, nipples peaked. "I'm not asking for forever, Loki. I'm not some silly girl with my head in the clouds. But I know what I want."
"Norns," he whispered under his breath, leaning closer toward you. You felt as his fingertips dragged up your ankle to your calf, the back of your knee, the meat of your thigh. You leaned back as he crawled up to you, breath shaky as he hovered above.
"Are you sure?" he asked, giving you a way out.
"I'm yours," you whispered, and it was like a switch flipped. One hand gripped onto your hip, the other tangling in your hair as his lips trailed down your neck.
"Say it again," he growled, large hands exploring new areas. He consumed you, big and broad and warm and everywhere.
You moaned from the attention. "I'm yours Loki."
He pressed his lips to your again, using his tongue to slowly part your lips, the whisper of a moan erupting from within him. Your heart beat faster and faster in rhythm with his.
Maybe I've always been yours. Even before you arrived on Midgard, before the chaos, the attack, before everything, maybe the stars knew that I was yours and no one else's. You looked at me like I was a treasure you'd been searching for your entire lifetime that night. You kissed me like it would be your first and last. Fingers mapped out each other's bodies, new discoveries and untouched wonders.
You'd taken your time, neither of us knowing our future together would be more short lived than we'd anticipated.
You paused to study my face, for any uncertainty, any regret. As if there was any doubt. I flipped you onto your back with a sultry smile, sitting atop you like conquering a mountain, and slowly sank down to take all of you in, shuddering and whimpering.
It was exactly what I had imagined, a painful pleasure that divided me in two. Your fingers interlaced with mine and you pulled yourself up to hold me in your arms as I rocked back and forth, acclimating myself to the new feeling. My name came out of your lips like whispered ecstasy. "You are a goddess."
Bringing your hands to my head, tongues intertwined, toes flexing to the heightened feelings.
"You okay?"
I nodded emphatically. Your hand drew down, first to my alert nipples craving any sort of attention. Flicking, fumbling, pinching, you pulled noises out of me that I'd never made before.
Your exploratory fingers went further south, causing a selfish whine. I wanted all of you everywhere. We looked up at one another at the same time, a mischievous grin forming on your face, a concerned pout on mine.
"Don't worry pet, only good things await you." Your long middle finger ran between my folds, flicking the bundle of nerves. I was a puddle in your hands. If you had asked me to leave Earth with you and never return, I would have gladly packed my bags.
My hips went wild with need, those long digits playing the harp on my clit.
"You ready to come?"
"Not yet," I replied, wanting this moment to last as long as possible, and somehow you prolonged it, a kiss here, a caress there, making my toes curl until I saw stars.
When I finally came, it may have been from the utter exhaustion that my body couldn't take it anymore. Out came a scream and then my teeth sank into your shoulder. I'd find out later that I'd bit you a little too hard, leaving a bruise that you didn't care to heal.
We laid in bed that day, you continuing to rub my back that would put me to sleep again. I was at peace, content and happy. Oh how I miss you.
Summary: As the personal assistant to the Avengers, you take your job very seriously. When Loki joins the Avengers, he challenges your line between business and pleasure.
